


the bear

by dizzy, waveydnp



Series: alittlewavey fic-a-thon [10]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Eerie, Imaginary Friend, M/M, POV Outsider, Psychotherapy, childhood AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 20:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20699063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp
Summary: Seven year old Phil has an imaginary friend, and his mother is concerned.





	the bear

The sign on the door reads Dr. Andrew Horridge on a glossy plaque. It's hanging crooked. He'll have to have the secretary fix that. He makes a note of it.

The woman in front of him twists her hands back and forth in her lap nervously. Her eyes are keen as they dart around the room, taking it all in. 

Fair enough, he thinks; he's doing the same but with her. He's noticing the way her hair curls artificially and the neatness of her lipstick. She takes care with her appearance, but maybe she was in a rush today; there's a coffee stain at the hem of her sleeve and one of her stockings has a run along the calf. 

"Mrs. Lester, is it?" he asks, looking down at the hand-written sheets of paper in front of him. "You're here about your son?" 

She looks startled, like she hadn't expected him to speak, though they're the only two people in the room. 

"Yes," she says. "I'm here about my Philip." 

Philip Lester. Aged seven. "Why don't you start by telling me a bit about him?"

"Oh, he's just - he's a normal little boy, don't you see? He's just as normal as any other little boy. He's always scraping his knees and getting into messes and playing pretend." 

"Playing pretend?" he asks. 

For a split second, just a flicker of an expression across her face, she looks like an animal cornered. "Like all children do."

"It is common," he agrees. "But you requested this appointment because you have concerns?"

"It's... yes." She looks like she's forcing the words out. "He has this imaginary friend, you see. And he's grown - rather attached. We think he's a bit too attached." 

He takes a note on his pad of paper. _Attached to imaginary friend._ Then he says, "Tell me how he's going in school." 

"Oh, he's a bright little boy. His marks are good - not as good as his brother's, but Phil's always lived in his own world a bit. His teachers say that his attention wanders sometimes." 

"Is he creative? Does he draw, color?" 

"He does - scribbles and scribbles. We've caught him using marker on the kitchen floor a few times, even. He's a right handful, keeps me running around far more than my older one." 

"What about socialization? How does he get on with schoolmates? Does he have friends?" 

"As much as any boy his age, I suppose. He comes home telling tales about the day every evening." Her answer wanders down a path as she tells a story from the week before, how he and his friends gave a dead bug a funeral. 

He lets her talk. It seems to put her at ease. When the story winds down, he smiles at her over the rim of his glasses. "He sounds like he has a quite a big heart on him." 

It's the right thing to say. Her smile widens, warms. "He does. Mummy's little boy, always finding me in the house to give me a hug or tell me that he loves me." 

"Has any of that changed with his recent behavior?"

The smile flickers just a bit. "No. Not… not really. A bit, I suppose. But he’s just more easily frustrated, that’s all." 

_Patient is agitated._ "Can you tell me more about the behaviors?"

"He's..." Her hands twist again, long fingers restless. "He comes to us in the night sometimes now. He'll stand at the foot of the bed and wake me or his dad up. Usually me - Nigel's a much better sleeper than I am. I've got mum senses, you know, when I hear those little feet - I just bolt right awake." 

"Is he having nightmares?" 

"He must be," she says. "But he always tells us that it's - him. That friend he's made up." 

"Is it just the one?" 

"Just the one," she confirms. "Just... Dan." 

"When he wakes you up at night, he says that Dan had a nightmare?" 

"Not a nightmare, exactly," she says. "But he'll say the oddest thing - that Dan can't find his teddy bear. That Dan's crying again. That Dan is scared of something in the trees." 

"Can Philip see the trees from his bedroom window?" he asks. 

"Yes," she answers. 

"Try buying a shade or curtain that covers it," he says. "And a night light for his room." 

She gives him a surprised look. "Is it that easy, do you think?" 

He smiles at her. "It depends on what problem you're trying to fix here. He's clearly using this imaginary friend as a way to express his own fears in an indirect way. A child's overactive imagination can turn shadows into monsters." 

She nods slowly. "Alright, then. Maybe we can find a Superman night light, he'll love that." 

"Involving him in the process is a good idea. Make it as fun for him as possible. There's no harm in approaching it from both angles; get rid of the shadows while also teaching the lad that monsters aren't real." 

"And Dan?" she asks. "Do we teach him that Dan isn't real, as well?" 

"If Philip is like most of the children I see, as we address the fears he's having he'll naturally grow to need the crutch of an imaginary friend no more." 

"What about the bear?" 

He tilts his head in question. 

"He's always on about Dan can't find his bear and Dan can't sleep without his bear," she says. "But Phil's never had a bear. Plenty of other soft toys, but never a proper bear one." 

He pauses before he answers. "He's likely just making generalizations," he finally says. "Has his attachment to this Dan led to any violent or aggressive behavior?" 

Her fingers tighten to a white knuckled grip. "Not violent." 

"But aggressive?" 

"Not..." She sighs. "Phil's got such a kind heart. I wouldn't say aggressive, no." 

"What would you say?" 

"He runs through the house at night. He tries to get into the basement - we keep it locked, the stairs are steep and there's no call for him to be going down there at night anyway." 

"What's in the basement?" 

"It's mostly for the boys and their games - video games, Phil and his brother used to play them all the time." 

"So he's trying to sneak to the video games at night while you're sleeping?" He makes another note. "That doesn't seem like uncommon child behavior." 

"No, it's not... he's not trying to get at the games, he says. And he's not trying to sneak. He pounds at the door. Wakes everyone in the house up. He says - he says Dan's afraid and the basement is safest." 

He smiles kindly at her. She's not the first parent he's seen that feels as though they need to convince him of things like this. She's not even the first this week. "Remember that the mind of a seven year old isn't that complex. It may be that he thinks gaining access once will be his path to late night entertainment." 

She sighs and looks down, slowly relaxing her hands. "I suppose you're right," she says, looking up. "We'll just have a chat with him about when it's appropriate and when it's not to play his games." 

"That sounds just fine," he says. "Now on that topic, what sort of television programs and games are you exposing him to? “

"I suppose... mostly just what his brother watches." 

"And his brother is older?" 

"Just by a couple of years, yes." 

"It may be that Philip is watching themes too mature of his mind to process," he says, shifting in his seat. He wants to look at the clock, but he won't. "You may try limiting his access or monitoring what he's watching or playing." 

She bristles slightly. "We do try. The television isn't meant to be on unless one of us is in the room." 

He hears her, but he does not believe her. Everyone lies. It's a coping mechanism, the most human of responses to any stress. 

"Just a suggestion," he says. "If his imagination is that keen, it'll find a way likely no matter what." 

She relaxes again. "He's bright, did I tell you that? He's so bright. His brother is too. but Martyn's always been more grounded. Phil just has his head in the clouds all the time." 

"Creativity in a child is a wonderful thing," he says. "Except when it becomes a disruption. Is the waking at night a regular occurrence?" 

"It is now. That's one of the reasons we've decided to see you. He's falling asleep during his lessons, and his teachers are concerned." She doesn't want to say the words, but he waits and lets her take her time. "It's all of it, isn't it? The nights when he pounds on the basement door, and when he comes to stand at the foot of the bed, and—" 

"And what?" 

Her eyes are damp when she looks at him. "The nights where he cries. It's such a horrible sound, isn't it? He just cries his little heart out and when we ask him what's wrong he says that Dan's sad and it makes him sad." 

The notes he takes on the paper are longer this time. _Transference of emotion to imaginary friend. Find source of emotional duress._

“Pardon me if this next question seems invasive, but it is important that you answer honestly. How is your home life? Does Philip get along with his brother? Has your family undergone any situations recently that might have left Philip confused or unsure? Any deaths, perhaps?” 

She shakes her head slowly. “No. Not that I can think of.”

He makes another note. _Mother says home situation is fine._ When he finishes he breaks and glances at the clock. There's a faint feeling of relief when he sees where the arms are holding stance. "That's all the time we have for this week." 

"Oh, really?" She frowns. "That seemed so fast." 

They both get to their feet. He holds his hand out to shake hers. Her skin is slightly cool, and her eyes haven't lost their wariness.

"I think I'd like you to bring Philip next time," he says. "I'd like to have a chat with him." 

-

Philip sits on the sofa by the window. He’s clutching a little plush lion in his hands, a concession made by his mother to get him to agree to see the doctor. She’s waiting outside the room, no doubt an anxious mess.

The doctor pulls up a chair and sits across from the little lad, notebook in his lap. He smiles and holds out his hand. “Hello Philip. I’m Doctor Horridge, but you can call me Andy.”

Philip looks as shy as any child the doctor has ever seen, but he puts his hand in the doctor’s and lets him shake it.

“I don’t like it when people call me that,” he says quietly.

“What should I call you?” the doctor asks.

“Phil.”

“Alright. Phil. I like that.”

Phil nods. His feet dangle a few inches off the floor.

“So Phil. Did your mum tell you what I wanted to talk to you about today?”

Phil nods.

Ah, children. Such literalists. “And what did she say?”

“Dan.”

“That’s right, Dan. But also about you. Do you think it would be alright if I asked you some questions, Phil?”

“I don’t know.” His little hands are squeezing that lion for dear life. 

The doctor thinks for a moment before he scoots to the edge of his chair and leans forward. “Hey Phil, can I ask you something?” 

Phil nods.

“Your mum told me the other day that you like to play video games with your brother, yeah?”

Phil’s face instantly goes brighter. He nods a little more enthusiastically. 

“What’s your favourite game?”

“Bubble Bobble,” he answers unequivocally.

“Yeah? Are you good at it?”

“Not as good as Mar.”

The doctor nods. “Big brothers, they’re good at everything, aren’t they?”

Phil grins. “No. Martyn’s rubbish at making up stories.”

Bingo, the doctor thinks. Making up stories, that’s Phil’s strong suit, his mother said so herself.

“And you’re brilliant at it, aren’t you, Phil?”

Phil nods proudly.

“And you enjoy it, too?”

“Yeah. I’m always making them up in my head, and sometimes mummy helps me write them down. She says soon I won’t even need her help ‘cause I’m so clever.”

“I reckon she’s right about that,” the doctor says, giving Phil a wink. 

Phil seems to relax a little. He looks around the room while the doctor takes a quick moment to scribble down a few notes.

“Hey Phil, let me ask you something. Do you ever make up stories so clever that you get confused and forget that they’re not real?”

“No. I’m not a baby.”

The doctor chuckles. Mrs. Lester was right, her son is a bright kid. “That you aren’t. So Phil, tell me about your friend. Tell me about Dan. Can you do that?”

Phil just shrugs, his posture closing off again.

The doctor frowns pensively. It’s clear that the child is uncomfortable discussing this particular topic. “Do you not like to talk about him?”

He takes a while to answer. “Mummy gets upset when I do.”

The doctor writes _Proud of imagination, but feels shame and/or guilt about Dan. What sets Dan apart? Parental disapproval? Perhaps Dan is a mechanism for lashing out at parents?_ He looks up at Phil and smiles. “You don’t mind if I write some things down, do you Phil?”

Phil shrugs, his attention directed behind him now, out the window where a yard worker is trimming the grass.

“Hey Phil, can I tell you something?”

Phil turns back around. “Okay.”

“I won’t get upset when you tell me about Dan. I won’t get upset by anything you tell me today, alright?”

Phil seems to consider that. “Promise?”

“I do. I promise.”

“You can’t break a promise. It’s important.”

“You’re absolutely right,” the doctor agrees. “Can we make a deal?”

“What deal?” 

“I promise you I won’t be upset by anything you tell me today, and you promise me you’ll tell the truth. Can we make that deal?”

Phil looks unsure. “You can’t tell my mummy.”

That gives the doctor pause. If Dan is a mechanism for Phil to seek attention from his parents, that request doesn’t make much sense. Perhaps this case is going to be more complex than he’d originally assumed.

“Because you don’t want to upset her?”

Phil nods. “And she doesn’t believe me. She says it’s not nice to tell tall tales.”

“But you’re not going to tell any tall tales, are you, Phil? Because we made a deal.”

Phil nods gravely.

“Good lad.” The doctor smiles. “Before I ask you any questions, do you have any you’d like to ask me?”

“Why do you want to ask me about Dan?”

The doctor makes sure he speaks carefully. “Your parents want to make sure you’re happy, Phil. They love you very much.”

“Okay.”

“So. Dan is your friend.”

Phil nods.

“And you can see him?”

“Yes.”

“Can anyone else see him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can your mum and dad see him?”

“No.”

“Why do you think that is, Phil?”

Phil looks down at his lion. “Dan is scared of grown ups.”

The doctor writes that down. “And trees, right?”

Phil nods.

“Are you afraid of trees, Phil?”

“No. I like trees. They make air and people need air to breathe or they’ll die.”

The doctor smiles. “You _are_ clever, aren’t you?”

Phil cracks a smile. “Yeah.”

“Do you know why Dan is afraid of trees, Phil?”

The smile disappears instantly. He presses his lips together and shakes his head.

“Does it upset you to talk about that?”

Phil nods, looking down at his shoes.

“Do you think you can tell me why?”

“I don’t like when Dan is scared,” Phil whispers. “It makes me scared when he’s scared.”

The doctor writes _Some kind of fear/shame surrounding trees._ “What does Dan do when he’s scared, Phil?”

“He cries. It makes my heart hurt. It makes me cry and then mummy wakes up and gets upset at me. One time it made her cry too and that made me cry even more.”

“You don’t like to upset your mum, do you, Phil?”

The poor little lad’s face quivers with emotion as he shakes his head. The doctor has the instinctual urge to reach out and comfort him physically, but he tamps it down. 

“Does Dan ever hurt you when he’s scared, Phil?”

Phil frowns. “No. Dan never hurts me. He’s my friend.”

“That’s good.” The doctor smiles, hoping he didn’t push too hard. “That’s good to hear. Friends don’t hurt each other.”

Phil shakes his head.

“Phil, does Dan like to play video games?”

Phil looks confused. “I don’t know.”

“Isn’t that why you sometimes try to go into the basement at night?” the doctor asks gently. “Remember, you can tell me the truth, because it won’t upset me.”

“That’s not why,” the child says firmly. “I already told mummy that’s not why. I don’t play video games without Mar.”

“Is it you who wants to go into the basement at night or is it Dan?”

“It’s not me, it’s Dan. I don’t want to go there in the dark. It’s scary.”

The doctor nods like he understands. He doesn’t. This is one way that treating children is actually much harder than their adult counterparts. Sometimes kids are a whole lot harder to bullshit.

“But Dan isn’t afraid of the basement in the dark?”

“He says it’s the only place he can hide.” Phil is looking down at his lion, twisting the thin strands of fiber that make up the mane around his finger.

The doctor works to keep his face neutral. “Hide from what, Phil?”

Phil looks up, and his eyes flick just slightly to the left of the doctor. They’re fixed on one spot for a good three seconds before he nods subtly and then looks back to the doctor. 

“He doesn’t want me to say. He’s afraid he’ll get in trouble if he tells.”

The doctor feels a little tingle of uneasiness under his skin. He can understand why some parents really freak themselves out about the whole imaginary friend thing. 

“Phil. Is Dan here with us right now?”

Phil’s eyes flick over to the same spot, then back to the doctor again. He nods.

“Who will he be in trouble with if he tells?”

Phil just shakes his head.

“Okay,” the doctor says. “That’s alright.” He scribbles _definitely afraid of someone_ into his notes. 

Phil’s got his lion hugged to his chest when the doctor looks back up. “Are you alright, Phil?”

Phil doesn’t answer.

The doctor sits for a moment, wheels turning in his head before his eyes lock on to the lion. He smiles, pleased with himself. “You look like you really love that lion, yeah?”

Phil nods.

“What’s his name?”

“Lion.”

“Classic, I like it.” He crosses one leg over the other and tries to project a casual air. “So Phil, I heard Dan has a toy he really loves too. And maybe he’s lost it?”

Phil frowns like he doesn’t understand. 

“Your mum told me that Dan lost his bear and can’t sleep without it.”

Phil surprises the doctor by sighing angrily. “That’s not what I said. Mummy never listens to me at night.”

“I’m sure she tries her best, Phil. Mummies are just people like you and me, right? Sometimes they make mistakes.”

“No,” he says huffily. “She gets cross with me at night when I wake up, even though it’s not my fault.”

“She’s not cross, Phil, I promise, okay? She’s not cross, she’s just concerned. She worries about you, because that’s what mums do, they worry about their children. She doesn’t like it when you cry at night because she just wants you to be happy.”

“I never said Dan lost his bear,” Phil insists stubbornly.

“What did you say, Phil?”

“I said Dan _is_ a lost bear.”

The doctor frowns. “Dan is a bear?”

“No, he’s a boy.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Phil.”

Phil sighs again, this time exasperated. It almost makes the doctor laugh. The lad sounds like a teenager. “That’s what he _says_. He’s a boy but he says he’s a bear.”

“A lost bear?” the doctor asks.

Phil nods. 

“A lost bear… who can’t sleep?”

Phil nods again. “That’s why he always wakes me up in the nighttime. He can’t sleep and he’s scared of the trees because he can see them out my window. He says the basement is the only safe place to hide for a little bear. It’s the only place he can hide from the screaming.”

The doctor feels another jolt of uneasiness. “The screaming?”

Phil nods.

“What screaming, Phil? Do you hear screaming at night?”

Phil gives him an exasperated look. “No. You’re just like my mummy, not listening. I said _Dan_ hears screaming, not me.”

“I’m sorry, Phil. I’m just trying to understand.” He looks down at his notes and writes _defensive, using Dan as a scapegoat._

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Phil asks. “You’re just like mummy and daddy. You think I made Dan up in my head.”

The doctor takes a breath to steady himself. He can’t give away how rattled he is. “Phil, I believe that you believe Dan is a real boy. I know you’re telling me what you think is the truth.”

“I want to go home now.”

The doctor checks the clock. It’s about time anyway. “Alright, Phil, we can stop for today.” He flips his notebook shut. “I won’t ask you any more questions about Dan, yeah?” 

Phil nods.

“The important thing is that you feel safe in your room at night, Phil. That’s all. Your parents are concerned that you don’t feel safe and you’re afraid to tell them the truth.”

“I tell them the truth,” Phil says quietly. “They just don’t want to hear it.”

The doctor feels absolutely bowled over. Surely this kid is older than seven. He doesn’t even know how to respond to that, so he gets up from his chair awkwardly and goes to open the door to let Mrs. Lester know the session is over. 

His notebook is clutched in his right hand.

Mrs Lester practically jumps from her seat and grabs her son into a hug that feels frankly a little ridiculous. It was a thirty minute session with a psychiatrist, not some kind of harrowing emotional trauma. 

He gives her a tight lipped smile. “Phil did really well today.” Then he looks at Phil. “Do you think I could talk to you again next week, Phil?”

Phil shrugs. 

“I was thinking next time your mum could sit in with us. Does that sound alright?”

Mrs Lester rubs the back of her son's neck and says, “We’ll be here.”

“Brilliant.” He looks at Phil. “Try to get some sleep this week, yeah? Tell Dan you need your rest.”

“Thank you doctor,” Mrs. Lester says. She takes Phil’s hand and they start to walk down the hall toward the exit. The doctor is about to head back to his office when Phil stops and turns around, still clinging to his mother with one hand and his lion with the other.

“Doctor Andy?” he says.

The doctor smiles. He’s glad the day is over. Forcing smiles all day gets truly exhausting after a while. “What’s up, Phil?”

“Dan says he thinks you’re nice.”

The doctor opens his mouth to respond when Phil cuts him off.

“Even though you called him a goat.”

Phil turns around and a cold chill creeps up the doctor’s spine as he watches the child and his mother walk down the hall and disappear around the corner.


End file.
